Formed in 1938 on the eve of the devastating World War, this plucky band of stalwarts found their inspiration in the speeches of President Wilson and Buster Keaton. Always fans of Scott Joplin, the Kaiser, and Tycho Brahe, the obvious move was to form a band. It seemed a good idea at the time. Those were the heady years, or rather, the heady months. Although all the members were killed in WWII, their spirit lived on...until the McCarthy era when they were banned in the states. Most went into accountancy, and a quiet period followed.
The late fifties were a formative time, the sixties were a blur, the seventies were a smear, the eighties were extended rehab from disco and lots of anger at Hinkley for getting defective hollowpoints, and soon enough it was the early nineties.
The band reformed and started an award-winning tour of the Balkans. Or at least that's what they told everyone. The usual trappings of fame followed, with sex, drugs, and more accountancy. Those were heady times. Wait a minute -- the sixties were the heady times -- or was it the seventies...These were more like a goddamned cardboard replica of their vainglorious attempt to justify their continued existence on the rock scene and.....Now where was I?
Somewhere about this time they started running into tribute bands that could produce their sound so well that they figured they could just hire them and go into semi-retirement. That just about brings us up to the present. They're still dead, and intend to remain so until their sales improve...yes, that's it...yes I said....yes I will yes yes yes
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